Or Something
by Mondie
Summary: The cab driver turned his head quickly. “You have to say goodbye to a girl or something?” he asked, suddenly sympathetic. The passenger ducked his head. “Or something,” he agreed. (Slash)
1. Prologue: 15 12

**Or Something  
**By Mondie  
Written/Started: Dec. 22, 2004  
Prologue: 15 ½  
Disclaimer: _Newsies_ Disney's. Plot Mondie's. Pirates are discouraged.

* * *

The taxi driver clucked impatiently. "Hurry up, kid. You were already late when I came to pick you up this morning. I got other people to drive too, ya know."

"I know," came a desolate response from the backseat. "I just need a minute to… collect myself."

The cabbie was wearing a checkered bowler hat, green and black, and it was perhaps the most hideous hat ever created. The young boy stared at it, unable to focus on anything else. Then the black and green blocks swirled together for a moment, as the cab driver turned his head quickly. "You have to say goodbye to a girl or something?" he asked, suddenly sympathetic. The passenger noted that his hard New York accent was affected, and probably false.

He ducked his head. "Or something," he agreed. His fingers pulled at each other, knotting themselves and sorting themselves out again. "I just… what if the door is slammed in my face?" He didn't look back up at the cabbie, and the man thought this was a good thing, because he couldn't keep the look of amusement off his face. He had the idea that this kid was no older than fifteen, and the fact that he was torturing himself so much over some ridiculous love that would go nowhere was laugh-worthy. Fifteen-year olds always thought they were in love. He knew; he had a fifteen-year old daughter who was convinced she was in love with a boy in her class. Their love, however, was shown by ten-minute phone calls twice a week and sitting on opposite ends of the sofa whenever he came over. Fifteen-year olds didn't know how to love. They hardly knew how to live.

"How old are you?" the cabbie asked, hoping that some conversation would jump-start the kid into going to say goodbye to his little girlfriend.

Two large, dark-chocolate eyes were lifted to his face, immediately reminding the driver of his cocker spaniel, Rufus. "Fifteen and a half," the boy answered. The driver internally congratulated himself on his shrewd age-guessing skills.

"I got a daughter who's fifteen," he said. The boy nodded, looking slightly less than interested. "She'd be crushed if the boy that she … is in love with … didn't come and say goodbye to her before leaving." After choosing his words carefully, he nodded to the three bags squished in the backseat with the boy. "And you appear to be leaving for a while."

The boy stared down at his hands again. "Yeah," he said softly. "I just… I don't know, we had a fight. And… I mean, who wants to get woken up to say goodbye to someone you just fought with?"

Two cars lumbered past, a few minutes apart. The cabbie was struggling with what to do. Finally, he chose a new route of venturing forward. He remembered when his daughter had had a little spat – hardly more than a disagreement – with her boyfriend. She had cried for an entire night, sure that her life was over. Quite convinced that this was the case for this young man, he turned and looked in the backseat again. "What'd you fight over?" he asked calmly.

The boy began tearing at the hem of his pants, fraying them beyond repair. "Our parents don't want us together," he said finally. "We tried to convince them, but… they said some stuff… I thought they were wrong and just didn't understand, but…" He trailed off, ripping the jeans apart more fiercely.

"But your little lover thought that they might have a point or two?" the cab driver suggested. "That's rough. A rough break, kid." He thought for a moment, and applauded himself on at least never being such a horrible father to his daughter as to forbid her to date the boy that she was convinced she was in love with. "What, your parents racist or something?"

The boy snorted, but it was hard to discern whether it was in laughter or disgust. "No," he said flatly. He met the driver's eyes again, and shook his head, as if in disbelief. "Did you look at the color of my skin when I got in? I'm a mulatto, in case you missed that. My parents are _anything_ but racist."

The cabbie nodded. It was his job not to notice, not to discriminate, but he had done it anyway, of course. "So why were your parents against it, then? One of you into drugs or something?" When the boy didn't answer, the driver was sure he had hit the point. It would explain all the bags – the young boy could be flying away in an effort to escape his parents and sell drugs. "Listen, it's okay if you do drugs," he continued. "I mean, we've all experimented with them, haven't we?" He let out a laugh, which usually sounded jovial and filled the car. With the boy's continued silence, however, it sounded hollow and he let it die off quickly.

Searching for something, anything to get the kid moving, he tried a new route. "So, your lover has good looks?"

At this, the boy grinned, and the cabbie was relieved to see that the boy could smile – and noted that he wasn't a bad-looking kid, at that, at least not when he smiled. He thought to himself that he wouldn't mind his own daughter dating a kid so good-looking as this. "Gorgeous," the boy answered. "Blond hair, blue-green eyes that change with the light. Amazing body. So nice, too – my best friend since we were four. We've always been real close. I guess that's how it began," he said, shrugging.

"And you're going to leave that pretty little thing waiting?" the man asked, his eyebrows raised so high that they disappeared beneath the brim of his bowler hat. "I wouldn't wait an instant, if I were you."

The boy stared at him for a long minute, as if still testing his resolve. Then, finally, he unbuckled his seatbelt. "You're right," he agreed. Clambering over his bags, he climbed out and walked hesitantly up the front walk.

"For Christ's sake," the driver grumbled to himself, then unrolled the passenger side window and yelled out to the boy, "You aren't going to impress anyone slouching like that! Confidence, walk like a man!" The boy immediately straightened up at his words, as if chastised by his mother. The cabbie nodded to himself in self-lauding.

He rang the doorbell and stood there, wiping his palms on his jeans, for a few minutes. His left leg was shaking, and it was visible even from the cab. The driver was starting to feel quite uncomfortable for the boy. There appeared to be quite a few distinguishable differences between the boy and his daughter.

The front door opened, and a boy came out. He didn't mask his surprise at seeing the other boy on his doorstep. The cabbie, feeling as though he was watching the latest soap opera, leaned halfway out the passenger-side window to catch the dialogue. He wondered if this boy – obviously the brother of the boy's girlfriend – would let them see each other.

"I'm leaving," he heard the darker boy say to the new blond one. "My parents want me to go live with my aunt in California. They just… they just don't see how we can be together." He put his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "I just couldn't leave without saying goodbye." The cabbie waited for the blond boy to turn and call his sister out. To his surprise, the boy he was driving reached a tentative hand forward and grabbed one of the blond's hands. "I love you, Blink," he said, so low that the cabbie wouldn't have known what he had said, if he weren't been so adept at reading lips.

The blond boy's face melted into a little smile. "I love you too, Mush." His fingers clasped the darker boy's harder. "I'm sorry we fought. And… God, I'm gonna miss you." His smile was gone as soon as it had come. "You… really, Mush, can't you convince them to let you stay? We could sneak around them, they wouldn't have to know we were together…"

The boy called Mush looked away, and the driver saw a flash of tears on his face. "I have to go, Blink," he said. "They're making me." Looking back into the other boy's face, he said, hopefully, "Will you wait for me?"

"Until the end of time," Blink promised.

At this, the boys fell into each other's arms, both crying, and the cab driver felt it best to discontinue his snooping. He looked back in time to see them exchange a small, chaste kiss – so pure that it hardly qualified – and then could see a blonde woman stirring in the living room, standing up. Not wanting them to be caught, he leaned – hard – on his horn. The boys were surprised out of their embrace, and just in time: the blond boy's mother came to the doorway a moment later.

"…Thanks for coming to return the ring you borrowed from me, Mush," Blink said hurriedly. "Have fun in California."

Mush stared at him for a minute, then caught on and shimmied a ring off of his finger. "No problem," he answered, dropping it into the waiting palm. "I knew that you'd be mad at me if I took it with me." He offered one last, sad smile, obviously disappointed that the presence of Blink's mom meant a less-than-fitting farewell. "Take care, Mrs. Fields, Blink."

"You too," Blink said, barely more than a whisper. He put the ring on his finger and shoved his hands in his pockets. Mush copied the gesture and then, dejected, walked back down the walk. Blink and his mother disappeared into their house, and Mush climbed in the waiting cab.

He cried all the way to the airport, and then gave a hefty tip to the driver. "Thanks," was all he said.

"Any time," the cabbie answered, tipping his green-black bowler hat.

As he drove his next passenger around, he grew quite content that his fifteen-year old daughter knew nothing of real love. He would have hated to come home and find the haunting darkness, the utter age and depth of that boy's eyes in her young face.

A few months later, he got a call to pick up a lady at her residence. Upon arrival, he realized that it was the house that the blond boy lived at, the one he had sat in front of for a good twenty minutes while a fifteen-year old boy sputtered excuses in the backseat. Upon picking up the blonde woman, he inquired casually as to the health of her family – didn't she have a son?

"I have no son," she answered with a sniff.

Pressing the matter no further, he could only hope that the blond boy had picked up and joined the boy with the sad eyes and beautiful smile.

He adjusted his black-green bowler hat. Maybe, just maybe – they were happy.

_

* * *

All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go  
I'm standing here outside your door  
I hate to wake you up to say goodbye  
But now the dawn is breaking, it's early morn  
The taxi's waiting, he's blowing his horn  
Already, I'm so lonely, I could cry  
So kiss me and smile for me, tell me that you'll wait for me  
Hold me like you'll never let me go  
Cuz I'm leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again  
Oh, babe, I hate to go  
-"Leavin' On a Jet Plane," John Denver_


	2. Chapter 1: Snitey

**Or Something  
**By Mondie  
Chapter Written: January 5, 2005  
Chapter One: Snitey  
Disclaimer: _Newsies_ Disney's. Plot Mondie's. Pirates are discouraged.

* * *

The school, in all honesty, _looked_ like a normal high school. There were green tiled floors that had been there since at least the 60s; a teacher with a severe bun and horn-rimmed glasses peering disapprovingly at the crowd of students in the hallway through the waved glass in her classroom door; a short kid wearing red pants and a plaid button-down shirt was being slammed into a locker by another student who looked to be about forty. A girl with blonde hair and a dark pink miniskirt was flouncing down the hallway on the arm of the boy who appeared to be the best football player, judging by his size, the fact he carried a football with him, and the way everyone kept calling, "Good game Friday!" to him. 

But this school wasn't a normal high school. The band kids – obvious because of the instrument cases at their feet which wouldn't fit in their lockers – were chatting animatedly with the cheerleaders. A boy with pocket protectors was sitting on the bench at the far end of the hallway, deep in conversation with a boy with bloodshot eyes and frosted hair. A teacher emerged from a classroom to clap a reassuring hand on the shoulder of a girl studying outside his door with tears in her eyes. "Don't worry about this one, Sandra," he told her quietly, with a twinkle in his eye. "The extra credit this week is about History Channel specials, and I know that you watch those religiously." She suddenly beamed up at him as he continued, "And, as usual, the extra credit can make even a person who fails the test get an A."

The most unusual aspect of the school, however, was embodied by two boys, who were dancing down the hallway. Greetings were called at them from all sides, which they returned by jovial nods. They were too preoccupied with their singing, however, to actually say hello to anyone. The shorter of the two, the pale latino with black curls falling into his large, dark eyes, shouted loudly, "I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me!"

His taller partner, whose entire visage seemed out of proportion due to the largest eyeteeth possibly allowed in a human face, turned a clumsy pirouette as he sang back, "He's just a poor boy, from a poor family!" He gestured to the kids on his side of the hallway, who all shouted gleefully, "Spare him his life from this monstrosity!"

The darker boy stood with his half of the hall at his back as he cooed, "Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?"

"Bismillah! NO! We will not let you go!"

"Let him go!"

"Bismillah! We will not let you go!"

"Let him go!"

They continued dancing down the hallway, leaping into the air like gazelles, the entire population of the hall grinning and singing along as they moved, a solid wave of song following them every step. Mush, who had found himself shouting along with the tall, big-teethed boy's side, couldn't help but laugh as they moved past him. His snort of laughter caught the attention of the tall boy, who stopped and looked at him, then grinned at Mush as he spun past him.

Mush didn't see the song and dance boys again until lunch, when they took the cafeteria by storm. Apparently the boys of Queen weren't the only singers in their repartee. The whole cafeteria seemed to have been waiting for this interlude to take place, and the students sitting at the table directly in front of the open double doors quickly moved their lunches from its surface, nearly shivering with anticipation. The two did not disappoint. The tall boy climbed up on the table top without hesitation, then fell on one knee. "I made it through the wilderness," he cooed, in an overly feminine voice. The girl sitting just below him yelled a catcall, while the boy sitting next to her shouted, "Sing it, Snitch!"

And sing it, Snitch did. "Somehow, I made it throu-ih-ough," he sang, somehow in a breathy shout.

The other half of his duo climbed up behind him and then sat on his propped knee. "Didn't know how lost I was, until I found you," the curly-haired boy sang, grinning wickedly into Snitch's face.

"Thanks, Itey," Snitch said coyly before putting up a tender hand and stroking Itey's side. "I was beat, incomplete," he sang.

Itey theatrically shivered from Snitch's touch. "I'd been had, I was sad and blue," he told Snitch mock-seriously. "But you made me feel, yeah you ma-a-a-ade me feel, shiny and new!" He threw back his head dramatically. "Ooh! Like a virgin, touched for the very first time!" The cafeteria air was, by this time, crackling with whistles and howls from all sides.

When Itey swooned nearly too far over, Snitch put out a protective hand and cradled his head while Itey remained dipped low. Snitch sang to him, "Like a vir-ir-ir-irgin, when your heart beats next to mine!"

Itey swung back upwards and climbed to his feet, pulling Snitch after him. Itey began to sashay the length of the table. "Gonna give you all my love, boy," he promised Snitch. "My fear is fading fa-ee-ast."

"Been saving it all for you, 'cuz only love can last," Snitch crooned back, and the girl from before gave another involuntary shriek.

Itey found a break in the people sitting at the table, and climbed down from it. The next table eagerly cleared off their trays, too, as he clambered on top of it and turned to Snitch. "You're so fine, and you're mine!"

Snitch climbed down too, but instead of climbing up after Itey, instead prowled around the perimeter of Itey's new table, while the third table hurried to cleanse their tabletop as well. Mush, who was sitting at that table and trying to be invisible, thought it best to comply. Snitch climbed up, right in front of Mush, who tried to look up to see Snitch's funny facial expressions, but only succeeded in getting a front row seat to a pelvic thrust which sent the entire female cafeterial audience into screams. "Make me strong, yeah you make me bold. Oh, your love thawed out, yeah your love thawed out what was scared and cold…"

"Like a virgin, HEY!" Itey sang, throwing in a few Michael Jackson moves. "Touched for the very first time!"

"Like a vir-ir-ir-irgin," Snitch sang back, wiggling downwards until finally Mush could see his face again – and he was very surprised to find that Snitch was winking and laughing at him, almost as if this particular move was all for… Mush? As the two continued to sing, half-shouting and half-Marilyn Monroe-esque breathiness, Mush lost himself in thoughts of another boy… a boy who _would_ have been dancing just for Mush. Blink. Back in New York. Feeling even more lost than these two clowns had professed to feel in the song, Mush wished with all of his heart that he could be back in his old high school – being tortured by the other kids for being who he was, sure, but at least with a best friend and boyfriend to back him up.

The show wasn't over yet, and Mush suddenly realized that Snitch had fallen to his back on the table just in front of Mush, and was twitching his body while sighing, breathing heavily, and apparently having an orgasm right there. The student body was in stitches, and Itey was trying unsuccessfully to sing over them. Unable to see these happy boys and their ridiculousness, though, Mush stood up and walked as quickly as his legs would take him out into the hallway, where he leaned against a locker and tried to keep his tears at bay. He missed Blink. He missed him a lot. This was the first time he had ever had to start in a school without Blink at his side. Their friendship, now spanning over a decade, meant that when he was without his blond counterpart, he felt somehow incomplete.

A sudden roar of clapping, catcalls and shouts informed Mush that the show was over. Sure enough, two seconds later, the two energetic boys sprang forth, hooting and hugging each other. Mush tried to become invisible again. He suddenly wished that the lockers were painted light blue, so that his linen shirt would blend in.

The taller boy with the huge teeth – Snitch – saw him and halted. "Hey, Ite, just a sec," he said, stopping his friend. "You okay?" he asked sympathetically.

"Fine," Mush answered shortly.

Snitch stared at him, then offered a crooked grin. "Come with us."

"What?" Itey protested. "Snitch, but…"

Snitch ignored him. "I heard a really nice singing voice in the hall this morning," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Might that have been you?"

Mush shrugged, still not fully wanting to engage in a terribly long conversation.

"C'mon then, we've been wanting to add someone to our act."

"We have?" Itey asked. A warning glance from Snitch shut him up. "Yeah, we have been. I forgot. We talked about it just last night."

Mush just stared down at his fingers.

"It'll be a good way to induct yourself into the mainstream of life here," Snitch said offhandedly, putting an arm around Mush's shoulders and pulling him along. Snitch was stronger than he looked, and somehow coaxed Mush's unbending legs to move forward.

"Maybe he won't want to be in our group," Itey said, glancing over at Mush with suspicion in his eyes. "C'mon, Snitch, you know how some new kids are."

Snitch rolled his eyes but stopped walking. Mush, still looking down at his fingernails, halted too. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Micah Meyers," Mush answered.

Snitch frowned. "We'll need to get him a nickname, Itey."

Mush shrugged to himself, as if quieting an inner voice that was struggling against him. "I'm called Mush back East by… my friend."

"That's better." Snitch nodded to himself, and Mush found that his approval of Blink's nickname made an even angrier welt across his heart. No one had ever called him Mush besides Blink before. He wasn't even sure why he had told Snitch the nickname, and instantly regretted it. "Good then. Mush, I'm Snitch, and that's Itey." Mush nodded, determined not to show his remorse for disclosing such a private thing as a pet name by a boyfriend, to be the name used to introduce him to the entirety of the school.

"You can just say Snitey, though, and then you've pretty much got your bases covered," Itey laughed. His laugh was somewhat hollow, and he was shooting suspicious glares at Mush when he thought that neither Mush nor Snitch were looking.

"You're up for this, right, Mush?" Snitch asked, grinning.

Mush just shrugged again, though he was visibly warming to the idea. He always _had_ liked to perform. And as much as he _would_ like to sit around pining for Blink and being depressed, the fact was that Mush had never been able to stay down for very long. A slight smile silhouetted itself in his lips, a ghost of a grin, as he recalled how fun it would be to be the person instigating the morning sing-along in the hallways, or to be dancing upon tabletops.

Snitch saw his guarded smile, took it as a yes, and grinned. "Just so you know, Itey and I are dating. That doesn't weird you out, does it?"

Mush gave him a rather pointed look, with an amused smile. Snitch grinned at him again. "That's what I thought," he said softly. "This is gonna work out, kid. I promise."

* * *

This hotel room was the kind where flip-flops were worn in the shower, there were no mints on the pillows at night, the swimming pool just outside was overgrown with algae, and one slept with his face touching as little of the pillow as possible. A lone boy say in the middle of the double bed, trying to ignore the lumps and broken springs underneath him as he thumbed through a large red phone book. He was frowning. 

Out loud, as much to drown out the humming from the overhead light as to keep himself company, he said in disdain, "How can there possibly be so many 'Meyers'es in one phone book?" Grimacing to himself, he wished he had taken more notice when Mush had told him the name of the aunt he was staying with. After quickly scanning the names and finding that none of them sounded familiar, he sighed as he reached over and grabbed the phone. Staring at it for a moment, he dropped it and rubbed his hands on his jeans, diving into his suitcase for some anti-bacterial spray. Saturating it well, he finally felt more at ease as he tapped the first number in.

_

* * *

Lyrics in the chapter: "Bohemian Rhapsody," Queen, and "Like a Virgin," Madonna.

* * *

I played the fool today, and I just dream of vanishing into the crowd  
Longing for home again, but home is a feeling I buried in you  
I'm all right, I'm all right, it only hurts when I breathe  
I can't ask for things to be still again  
I can't ask if I could walk through the world in your eyes  
__Longing for home again, but home is a feeling I buried in you  
I'm all right, I'm all right, it only hurts when I breathe  
I'm all right, I'm all right, it only hurts when I breathe  
My window through which nothing hides, and everything sings  
'Cause I'm counting the signs, cursing the miles in between  
Home is a feeling I buried in you  
I'm all right, I'm all right, it only hurts when I breathe  
-Melissa Etheridge, "Breathe"_ **

* * *

Shoutouts! **

**Rumor** Thanks! I like the cabbie too. Ahahaha. Especially his hat. Thanks for Review #1. Loves always to you, oh fabulous reviewer of all times!

**Queen Kez the Wicked**Iknew that if ANYONE liked the cabbie, it would –so- be you. XD We're so the best lovers of each others' random characters… wonder why that is… and what exactly that says about our personalities…. Oo! And I understand the needage for snackage, it happens at the most inopportune moments. Ah dear me! Thanks for the review, oh splendiferous Kez of the a!

**Checkmate **:) Thanks! And really, it's mostly just angst… and there's no real direction right now for the story… so … yeah. But thanks for the review hon!

**Omni **-COUNTER GLOMP-

**Mush's Skittles **As we all know, if I didn't have YOUR approval, I would be nowhere. Thanks for reading, Itts! I always love getting your reviews. :D

**The Second Batgirl **Uh… hey! I reviewed! I'd tell you right now but you girls aren't online for SOME reason (how am I supposed to RP without you two, huh??? Lol) And -counter-loves- for the nice review. Mad, mad hearts to you!

**Studentnumber24601 **Haha, well… there is that saying that incest is the best… YAY! I love the cabbie too. And he doesn't have a name because… I didn't want to label him. Or something deep and meaningful that isn't just a happy coincidence. :D And uh… I'll take your plot into consideration. You know, once I get Mush and Blink reunited in a cheesy _Grease_-esque fashion, which is undoubtedly what will happen. I –did- put Mush in a linen shirt! Which… is almost close to shirtless… uh… yeah. Erm… I promise more Blush is on the way, we just have to get them there first… (pleasedon'tkillme)

**DreamlessMermaid** Thanks! Haha, Mush and Blink are pretty much the only characters I make a point of writing about, so I'd hope by this time I had them at least SLIGHTLY down. LOL! Thanks for the review. :)

**Gothic Author **You … don't break my heart? Ahaha, I adore you so much and your reviews mean a LOT to me. love love love back!

**Sita-Chan **I MISS YOU SO MUCH. I heard we get you back tomorrow… er, today. This restores happiness in my soul because I have missed thee like Mush misses Blink. Tis true!! Thanks for the review! And I insist that you like Blush. It's… mandatory. So there. –clings and loves back-


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